


The Best Revenge

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Forever Knight
Genre: Bloodplay, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-02
Updated: 2005-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief interlude set after “Till Only The Music Remained.” (A Forever Knight/Angel Crossover) and before, “Someone To Watch Over me.” This piece won’t make sense if you haven’t read the original story. Told from a FK perspective, it’s a short conversation between two ancient broken hearts. Nick Knight/Janette. Wes/Knight implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Author’s notes: Since Janette appears in this piece, this brief interlude requires a bit of background knowledge of the FK series. Janette and Nicholas were both “brought across” by the Master Vampire LaCroix, but by some miracle of fate Janette achieved what Nicholas desired for centuries -- mortality. She fell in love with a mortal and regained her humanity. But unfortunately, her lover was murdered and in the end Janette, herself, was fatally wounded. Nicholas could not bring himself to allow her to die, and despite her protests, he brought her back to the world of the “Undead,” gaining yet another stain on his guilt ridden soul.

 

“The best revenge is revenge.” ~ LaCroix

 

~*~*~*~*~*

 

Knight’s music rose in a crescendo that fought to fill the emptiness…

Moonlight filtered through the skylights overhead, casting the room in a surrealistic haze – the piano where Nick sat…a gothic inspired mantelpiece…a marble bench pitted with age…a supple Italian leather sofa…a somber array of artwork that adorned the walls. Candlelight flickered across his solemn face as his hands raced over the ivory keys. The notes filled the cavernous void of his loft and drifted beyond the stairway into the shadows cloistered above.

His music rose in a crescendo that fought to fill the emptiness…

…the loneliness.

But failed.

Wesley was gone. 

Though Nick was offered solace in the promise of a phone call once his friend reached L.A. Knight didn’t encourage the ex-watcher to return. Though he desperately hoped that one day they would meet again, he knew it was safer this way…

The emptiness tore at his heart.

He dropped his hands into his lap and silence echoed into the dim corners of the loft. He sighed and spoke aloud into the quiet room without turning his head. “I’ve sensed your presence for weeks. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“There was nothing left to say, *mon frère.*” The air whispered with movement and she was at his side, her moist lips pressed to his ear, “Or perhaps, I should call you *mon père.*.”

He hadn’t seen his sweet Janette in months. Since that fateful night he brought her across again, stealing the miraculous gift of her mortality in a single, selfish act as she lay dying in his arms. 

He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Should I taunt you with visions of sunlight glimmering on snow-covered rooftops, gray smoke drifting into an eternally blue sky? How long has it been since you witnessed such a sight?” She slipped to the bench at his side. “I experienced such splendor scarcely two months ago, yet it seems a lifetime, a *thousand* lifetimes.”

“Taunt me as you will, Janette; it’s no more than I deserve.”

She sighed, then lightly pressed her lips to his cheek and coaxed him to open his eyes. “My poor, brooding Nicola, you would steal even my pain and make it your own. How you must relish this self-pity with which you define yourself. But I won’t let you have it; it’s mine and mine alone to bear.”

“*Je regrette!*” Crimson deepened his eyes with unshed tears as he pleaded. “I couldn’t let you die.”

“It wasn’t me that you couldn’t allow to die, *mon cher,* but that part of you I represent.” Reaching out, she gently traced the lines of tragedy etched into his face. “I’m the anchor in the eternal tempest of your immortality. My darkness is the counterbalance to your precious Natalie’s light.”

He gasped and opened his mouth to protest…

She pressed her fingers to his lips and breathed. “No more.”

He trembled beneath her touch, then softly kissed her hand and gathered it into his own. His eyes washed over her face, alluring in the candle’s glow. She leaned near and her skin, an enticing whisper, brushed his cheek, but he stiffened and pulled away, saying, “Last month the department investigated an unusual homicide at the Civic Center of a business associate of Mario Larouche’s.”

Her eyes sparked amber then paled to blue.

“Justice?” He searched her face, hoping for a denial.

“*En revanche.*” She met his allegation without expression. “Larouche caused the death of the man I loved. In return, I offered pain for pain. It is our way, Nicola; you know this.”

He drew a deep breath and held it.

“There are debts that remain, as yet, unpaid; I warn you, more shall follow.” Her voice fell to a whisper as her eyes glazed with a deeper memory. “*La meilleure vengeance est vengeance.*”

“Must I hear this?” He abruptly rose to his feet. “I could use a drink.”

A frown marred her flawless brow as she watched him cross the room to the kitchenette and retrieve two long-stemmed glasses from the shelf. He filled them with a ruby liquid, returned to where she sat on the bench and offered her a glass. She accepted, took a tentative sip and startled in surprise. “Human! This vintage is human.”

His eyes slipped away from her face.

“Your hospitality has improved since I left Toronto; how refreshing to be spared your usual fare of *vin vache.*”

Without meeting her eyes, he placed his glass to his lips and took a brief sip. A shudder passed through his body, then he astonished his guest by greedily gulping the contents in a single swig.

“Nicola…?”

“LaCroix, he…it was a gift.” The words rushed from his lips as he hastened to explain what he, himself, was unable to fully comprehend. “A lot has happened this past year. I don’t know where to begin…”

“You’ve been drinking human blood?”

“Sometimes.” He looked away, unable to face her, and moved across the room to sit on the sofa before the fireplace. He opened his mouth to tell her about the intriguing ex-watcher who swept into his world, briefly brightening the shadows of his soul. The man who only an hour ago rode out of his life, leaving him empty and cold. But the words died on his lips and instead he said, “I haven’t resorted to actually procuring human blood on my own, but--” 

“LaCroix is more than pleased to obtain it for you,” she added smoothly, her eyes alight with a knowing gaze. “So typically generous of him.”

“It’s not as if I exist on it.” He protested, his attention drawn to the glass in her hand and held captive by its contents. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away as the memory of the exquisite taste of Wesley’s blood still lingered in his veins. He should have never savored the man’s essence. 

“Of course not.” She sipped her drink with languished ease, then rested her glass next to the candelabra on the piano’s lacquered surface where its liquid beckoned in the waning light. She slowly traced the rim with her finger, dipped her nail into the wine, placed it to her lips and gently sucked. “Nothing so politically incorrect as that.”

Silence fell between them and Nicholas focused on the shadows cast along the walls by the blaze cracking in the fireplace. The flame’s glow caressed a mahogany cabinet nestled in the corner of the loft; it sheltered the renaissance portrait of a raven-haired beauty who captured his heart centuries before. His eyes lingered on it and softened with a nostalgic gaze.

“Human…blood.” In an instant, she stood before him; the dress that molded her enticing form shimmered as she sank to the floor at his feet. “Tell me, now that you have savored this human blood and rekindled the passion of your nature, what was it like to devour my humanity?”

His eyes widened with horror. “Janette, I--”

“Was its flavor sweetened by my resistance?” She rested her hand on his knee and breathed in a tantalizing whisper. “Did you writhe with desire as you raped me of my mortality?”

“That isn’t fair!”

“Isn’t it?” She rested her cheek against his thigh and gazed into his pain-filled face. “I freely gave myself to our master: it was my choice to make. LaCroix would never take by force what was mine to give, but you…”

“Forgive me.” The words tore from his heart. “I couldn’t let you die.”

“*Au grand coût,*” she whispered.

“‘At great cost.’” He solemnly agreed. He stole her from the world of the living against her will. He thought of Wesley sleeping trustingly in his arms just the night before and wondered what he would think if he knew what the vampire was truly capable of. How he took Janette’s life as she struggled to be embraced by the awaiting arms of death….

“There’s no room in a vampire’s heart for anything but darkness. We’re creatures ruled by passion; our veins lust to be filled.” She pressed her palms against his thighs, trailed upward to the waistband of his jeans and slipped under his shirt to the ivory flesh that quivered beneath her touch. “Behold, your creation!”

He pulled in his breath and grabbed her hands.

“Does my blood no longer beckon to the burning in your veins or has desire been quenched by conquest? Has my wine grown bitter?”

“Never.” He crushed her hands to his chest. “Your elixir grows sweeter with each passing year.”

“Then, why?”

“I’m sorry; it’s…there’s someone….” He struggled to find the words, failed and offered lamely. “You went away.”

“So I did.” A knowing smile tipped her lips. “You’re making love to Natalie, aren’t you, a sip at a time as I suggested? Has it warmed your soul?”

“I would never risk such a thing with Nat.” He pressed her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. 

“The two of you cannot make love, yet you resist me.” Her face grew dark. “You dare not risk your precious Natalie for fear that her heart might grow cold…like mine.”

“Janette, I--”

“Surely someone has quenched your lust these past months. If not your mortal friend, then who?”

He shook his head and turned away. “It isn’t important.” Somehow the thought of discussing the complexities of his relationship with Wesley was more than he could handle tonight. The thought of never seeing the ex-watcher again was more than he could bear.

“You’ve been *celibate?*” She misconstrued his silence and her eyes widened. “You and your cursed chivalry. For that little fool, you’ve bridled the primal passions of your immortal nature. Why didn’t you go to the club? I have fledglings there who’ve been instructed to never deny you.”

“What!” He exclaimed in surprise, then chuckled dryly in spite of himself. “Am I truly so pathetic that you assume I can’t get a date on my own?”

“Among those of our community?” She slowly shook her head and rested her cheek against his knee. “Obviously, *mon cher,* it has been some time since you last made the attempt. Your blood is tainted by that substance you consume as nourishment; it permeates your very pores. The aroma is far from enticing to most females of our kind and males as well, for that matter.” She winked. “If you were so inclined.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell bad?”

“Among other things.” She lightly traced a pattern over his denim-clad leg. “But your reputation is no less of a deterrent than your feeding habits. It is well known that you shun our kind, living the guise of a mortal. Most consider you to be a snob.”

“Thanks for the little ego boost.”

“They do not know you as I do; our souls are eternally entwined. I have tasted the depths of your hunger -- consumed it.” Her blue eyes flamed to a golden haze and she growled. “Give yourself to me.”

He pulled in his breath…

“I have been the willing receptacle of your lust and your pain without restraint, fettered to your summons.” Kneeling between his legs, she grabbed the collar of her dress, ripped it and revealed the enticing slope of her throat to his startled gaze. “*Vous me devez.*”

His eyes locked on her flesh and he swallowed hard.

“*Take me.*”

“I can’t.” He fought to pull his eyes away but failed. “There’s…someone, I…”

“Any relationship you attempt to pursue with a mortal is doomed to failure. It is a foolish fantasy you will never dare to fulfill. No mortal will ever fully accept your true nature.”

“He…understands.”

“He!” Her eyes widened with delight. “How decadent!” She slowly licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and repeated softly, “He?”

“Wesley. Yes…” Nick cleared his throat. “He knows my true nature.”

“Does he?” The sneer was unmistakable in her tone. “Never. This mortal may think that he does, but he couldn’t possibly comprehend the burning desire that rages through your veins. The all-consuming need for the blood. Not as I do. You tempt disaster by thwarting your desires.” She folded against his body and pressed her throat to his trembling lips. “Submit to your nature.”

“*No.*” The word strangled in his chest.

“Is he beautiful?” She breathed against his ear then gently kissed the lobe, tracing it with her tongue. 

“What?” He frowned in confusion, pulled back and met her eyes.

“This mortal who’s smitten your affections. Is he beautiful?”

The memory of Wes’s pale, lean body swept over his senses, bringing with it the ecstasy of warm skin pressed against him in the darkness, and a smile whispered over his lips. “Yes, he’s…beautiful.”

“I would have loved to watch the two of you together, entwined in the sheets.” Her eyes glimmered with mischief and she leaned near, nibbled on his lip, bit and brought blood that pooled and shimmered in the candle’s glow. She lapped it with her tongue, causing him to moan and crush her near.

Her words summoned the memory of Wesley’s burning passion as their bodies strained together and the surge of his blood pulsing through his heart. “He was magnificent,” Nick rasped. “What we shared was more than I dreamed possible. I will miss him…terribly.”

“Poor, poor Nicola. Forever trusting your heart to those you can never have. These foolish fantasies will only bring you pain. You belong with your own kind. Unless, of course, you intend to bring him across.”

“NEVER,” he hissed, then softly confessed, “I sent him away.”

“Because you are like me. A predator.” She wrapped her body close and dipped her head, sucked gently on his neck, sending tingles down his spine when she whispered, “Still, I would have loved to watch you take him…this beautiful mortal of yours.” 

He trembled at the memory of Wesley thrusting against him, the sweat beaded across his brow, the surge of his blood singing through his veins, the moans tearing from his throat as their bodies writhed together, and Nick suddenly realized those same sounds were coming from his own throat as he strained against his Dark Angel crushed in his embrace. The lust coursed through him and he pressed his lips to Janette’s. “I shouldn’t,” The words tore from his chest even as he pulled her from the floor, buried his face into her neck and moaned, “Forgive me.”

With a hiss, she tore open his shirt; buttons scattered to the floor. Her fangs glistened in the candle’s glow as she savagely sank them into his chest.

He shuddered and surrendered to her hunger, allowed it to summon the beast. His eyes grew amber and he pulled free, plunged his teeth into her throat and savored the salted-passion that sang into his mouth. Filling him, it chased the shadows from his heart. His luscious Janette…

The memory of Wesley’s wondrous blood raced through him, mingling with the ecstasy he felt for his dark beloved. His head swam as the lust of her blood burned into his own, and in a daze he felt her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt.

“*Je vous veux à l'intérieur de moi.*” She shoved her dress to her hips, wrapped her legs around his waist and pleaded. “I want more, Nicola.” Her nails dug into his jeans, shredding the denim as she forced them from his hips. “*Je le veux tous!*”

Consumed by her blood, it seared through him, dissolving reality and in a fog he felt her strain to claim his awakening body. Her heels dug into the small of his back and her teeth plunged into his throat, driving him into a frenzy. 

A moan wrenched from his lips and he threw back his head; his fangs glimmered with crimson as a groan roared from his chest and echoed into the shadows of the loft. Heedless of her pleas for deeper consummation below the belt, he thrust into her throat, again and again, absorbing her essence, until his blood boiled and his mind exploded….

“Janette, *ma amour!*”

Ecstasy flamed into a scarlet haze as the centuries melted and their souls coalesced. He longed to take Wesley this way, deeply, completely, draining his life from his veins again and again, but he knew that he never could. Janette was right, this was a part of his nature he could never share with the ex-watcher.

His world exploded as she died in his arms and he in hers…

Slowly the room fell into focus and he gathered her near with trembling arms. Desire mellowed into warmth and he gave her a sheepish grin and tenderly dropped his head to the softness of her breasts. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.”

“Another time, perhaps.” Her laughter whispered past his ear as she gently brushed the blood-sweat from his waxen brow. Her eyes passed over the crimson staining his lush lips and she smiled in triumph. “You are what you are, my Nicola. The bloodlust has always ruled your passion. It is why you will never be suited to mortal couplings.”

“Your embrace is my eternal harbor--”

“Nick…?”

The familiar voice struck a chill in his heart and Nicholas froze. He clutched Janette to his chest and fought to calm the tremors surging through him as his eyes focused on a point beyond her shoulder and widened with horror.

Cast in the glow of the open lift, a tall, slender figure stood watching them.

Wesley.

At first, the ex-watcher’s face registered slight surprise at seeing the two entwined on the sofa, then slowly his eyes passed over the scene and widened at the blood staining her torn dress, the crimson smeared across Nicholas’ lips. Blood. Blood. Everywhere. 

Wes swallowed and took a step back.

“I neglected to mention--” Janette’s voice purred against his ear in chilling contrast to the roaring in his brain. “—That LaCroix informed me of your little…diversion these last few days.”

“You *knew,*” he hissed. “You’ve known about Wesley all along!”

“If you ask him, you’ll discover that he had a bit of engine trouble not far from town. Funny how these things happen. But since, as you say, he knows all about you and accepts your true nature, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

Wesley stood frozen in front of the lift, his face expressionless, his attention riveted to the blood. There was just so much of it. More than Nicholas thought possible. Something flickered in the ex-watcher’s eyes before he squeezed them shut, turned and stepped back into the lift. 

“*Wesley*…” The doors swept shut and the watcher was gone. “Bitch.”

A smile touched Janette’s lips as she whispered, “Your true nature.”

His breath choked in his throat as his mind fought to make reason of her betrayal. “A vampire’s justice?”

“*C’est vengeance.* I warned you, there were debts to be paid.”

With every fiber of his being, he longed to follow Wesley to explain, but he sat frozen to the spot unable to move. His friend knew only too well what Nicholas was. Still, seeing it….

Knight shuddered.

“*Damn you to hell, Nicola.*” Janette started to rise, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her and she hissed, “You should have let me die.”

“I couldn’t let you go!” The plea wrenched from his soul.

“At what price?” Her voice broke and she dropped her head against his chest….

The flames popped in the fireplace, showering the loft in a golden haze; he gathered her close to the silence of his heart and breathed, “At great cost.”

 

The end


End file.
